


It's A Wonderful (Grimm) Life

by GalahadsGurl



Series: The Cahill Project [25]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Beauty and the Beast (TV 2012), Flashpoint (TV), Glee, Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It's a Wonderful Life, M/M, Multi, Team as Family, The Cahill Project, The Grimm Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadsGurl/pseuds/GalahadsGurl
Summary: Vincent Keller has a great life, but there are considerable obstacles to that. There are times he wishes Catherine Chandler - his beloved Cat - could have the life she dreamed of. He gets his wish. You should always be careful what you wish for.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarweather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarweather/gifts), [Caiti (Caitriona_3)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/gifts), [AlekWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlekWalker/gifts).



> So Vincent Keller is one of my favorite characters in The Grimm Truth. He's so amazing, and I don't spotlight him enough. 
> 
> This takes place in March of 2013. 
> 
> I was watching Season 4 of Beauty and the Beast, and this idea was born. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as ai enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> And please, comments make my life. Please let me know what you think!!

[](https://imgur.com/H191FO4)

Vincent swore a blue streak as he and Catherine ran from the gunmen chasing them, trying to get to the rendezvous before anything else happened. “And here we are . . . once again running from my demons. Shit, Cat . . . I’m sorry.”

“This is not your fault, Vincent,” Catherine panted, a scowl on her face as she ducked. “This is on Muirfield. And it’s not just you they’re hunting . . . they’re after our children too. No one is safe from them.”

“I should have left you alone . . . I should have never let you get close to me,” he panted, as they stopped behind a wall to take a second and reevaluate their surroundings. “All I’ve done is destroy your life.”

Catherine’s eyes were hard as she snapped, “Bullshit . . . having you in my life, Vincent . . . I have so much more than I could have ever dreamed possible.”

“And given up other dreams I know meant just as much to you. Children . . . a wedding . . . a **life**.”

“I have a life, Vincent. And I have two beautiful daughters and a very handsome son. Not to mention, I don’t need a wedding to know that I’m your mate. This is my family now. Conventional or not, it’s everything I could have ever wanted.”

Vincent opened his mouth to protest, before a sharp scream ripped through the area, prompting Catherine’s gasped, “Dacia.”

Features wogeing out, the Blutbad side of her mate growled as he scented the air, trying to pinpoint the location of his youngest child. “Stay here . . . stay safe.”

The detective pulled her gun, holding it capably as she nodded at him. “Go . . . save our daughter.”

He blurred out of sight, running hard and fast towards where he could smell his daughter and her boyfriend, the two running together from a trio of gunmen. He arrived with seconds to spare, his heightened senses easily able to sense the fingers tightening on a trigger as one of Muirfield’s goons took a shot at Rene’s back. Vincent didn’t even think, allowing feral instincts to take over as he moved. Sharp pain bloomed through his chest once . . . twice . . . three times, before he was on the man, teeth clamping around his throat and ripping his windpipe free. From there it was a moment’s work to deal with the other two, the bodies littering the ground at his feet. 

Stepping back from the mess, he looked up at the sound of Marina’s voice, gentle and calm as she called his name. “Vincent . . .”

Relief swelled through him at the sight of the family fanning out through the area. When the shots had first rung through the park where they’d been picnicking together, Vincent had triggered the emergency signal, but things had been chaotic since then. He blinked at the sight of the approaching Russian, her beloved features worried and fearful as she approached him, his vision wavering as he swayed on his feet. “Marina . . . where’s Catherine?”

“She’s fine, she’s safe. _Sammichka_ and _Prizrak_ are with her. They went to the rendezvous to meet _Samonik_ , Inari, Rey and Blaine. They’re on their way here.”

“Marina . . . I don’t feel so good,” he whispered, eyes fluttering as the pain started to overwhelm him. 

Her hand came up to cup his cheek, her other coming around his waist to brace him up. Her voice was low and soothing as she started easing him to the ground. “You took three bullets to the chest, _Roslyy_ . . . no I don’t imagine you do.”

He blinked, staring down at the blood staining his shirt in shock before his eyes rolled back as he murmured, “Oh damn.”

The last thing he heard before unconsciousness took him was the sound of Dacia’s scream. “ ** _VATI_**!!”

 

**************************

It was strange, waiting for word from a surgeon other than Vincent. For the last several years, he had been there . . . the steady medic with calm hands and boundless knowledge. To have him under the knife this time, instead of them . . . there wasn't a single person who wasn't a little anxious. There was no one in Medical they trusted more, Scarlett and Marta notwithstanding.

Marina had had her arms around her youngest son for awhile, unwilling to let him go. The sight of the gun leveled at his head . . . and Vincent's blood blossoming instead . . . That moment of terror, knowing she couldn't reach either of them in time, would haunt her nightmares for months. Dacia was huddled alongside Rene under Marina's arm, her eyes fixed on her frantic Mama. The teenager, her sister and her brother were all tense, reacting to Catherine and terrified for their father. The detective’s panic was normal, but eventually Marina would need to say something. 

Just . . . not yet. 

Finally Will stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the young woman, holding her close in a familiar embrace. Whatever he whispered to her earned a sob, before at last she buckled into him. He caught her up easily, taking a seat and letting her curl up on his knees like a child, relieved to have someone else to carry the burden of her fear for awhile. 

Inari whimpered, _Samonik_ ’s arms tightening around her just that little bit. Whatever he said to her was too low for anyone else's ears, her face hiding in his flannel as she silently cried. The look in the younger Winchester’s eyes was devastated on his girlfriend's behalf, doing everything he could and not enough to take away the pain. 

The sound of soft and tentative footsteps brought everyone’s attention up and around. Marina gave the blond nurse a broken smile as she greeted her gently. “Hello Miranda. How is he?”

Those eyes looked over the occupants of the room, before she shook her head. “He's stable for the moment. He lost a lot of blood, though. Dr Mitchell says . . .” 

Here she paused, taking in the desperate look in Catherine’s eyes. The head nurse was very fond of Vincent; her fondness extended onto his partner and children as well. The detective looked hopeful and terrified all at the same time, clearly hoping for good news. 

Good news she couldn't give. 

“He's in a coma,” she announced softly, watching as Catherine crumpled under the weight of those four words. Biting down on her lower lip, she forced herself to continue speaking. “. . . and Dr Mitchell isn't sure he's gonna pull out of it. There's just . . . there's too much trauma to his organs, Cat, I am so sorry.”

Marina's oldest son protested immediately, Sam’s hand coming up to grip his arm unconsciously. “No offense Miranda, but that's bullshit. Vincent tangled with **zombies** and came out fine.”

His brother nodded as he tightened his hold around Dacia. “Definitely. He has to threaten me when I ask permission to take Dac to prom. He's been looking forward to it . . . he told me so.”

The younger Winchester smirked and replied, “Ditto. And he intends to have a long talk with Rey about Blaine.”

Reynard Clark-Keller, the newest member of their unusual family, blinked. “But **I'm** his son!”

“He likes Blaine,” Inari whispered with a tearful smile. “He doesn't want you to screw it up.”

The singer blushed from his seat beside his boyfriend, squeezing his hand fondly. “I don't think he could.”

There was love and concern in Ethan's face as he insisted to Catherine, “Grievously injured or not, Catherine . . . Vincent is not down and out yet. He will fight to stay with us. I believe that completely.”

Catherine's green eyes swam with tears, her lips trembling as she stared. Marina could see the fear that flashed through her, triggered by the renewed tears from her daughters. It seemed for a moment like she would bow under those words, before her lip firmed and she shook her head. “He wouldn't leave us . . . he's gonna be fine . . .”

Turning to bury her face back in Will's shirt, she insisted in a broken whimper, “He has to be.”

**************************

It had been three days since the shooting. And Catherine had not moved from his bedside. 

The fingers of one hand stroked over Marina's pregnant belly, while the other clutched the scruff of her wolf, the two watching from the doorframe. Her eyes were sad and fond but understanding as she watched Catherine tearfully beg her partner to wake up. Marina had been in this place before; she could more than sympathize with the helplessness the younger woman was feeling at that moment. The detective had been a constant feature of the hospital since the doctor had come out of surgery. She was looking rundown and unkempt; it was long passed time Marina had said something about it. 

The Russian moved to the bedside with a heavy heart, touch gentle on the wrist lying beside the still form. Vincent’s skin blazed with heat, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to him. Lifting her hand, Marina laid the backs of her fingers to the skin just behind his ear and sighed. The infection he’d been struggling with had been an almost insurmountable obstacle and it was clear his fever had risen through the course of the day. Thus explaining Catherine’s current moment of panic. Bending, Marina pressed a maternal kiss to her boy’s forehead. “We’re here, _Roslyy_ . . . just rest and get well,” she murmured, before straightening and moving to Catherine’s side. “Cat . . . honey . . . you need to rest.”

The woman’s head shook furiously even as she protested, “No . . . I can’t. I can’t leave him here alone. He wouldn’t leave me.”

“For your children, he would,” was gentle correction, earning a blanch from the young woman as her life outside of the tiny room suddenly reasserted itself. 

“The girls . . . Rey . . . are they okay?”

“Physically, yes, they are well. But mentally . . . emotionally . . . honey, they need their mother. I give you my word, Vincent will not be alone. Apache and I will stay here with him until you return. But for the moment, you need to rest and your children need your reassurances . . . more than Vincent needs you here.”

Catherine bit down on her lower lip, clearly torn about the matter. “Are you sure? He wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience to you, Marina.”

“Vincent is one of my boys . . . he could never be an inconvenience to me. He has been there for us many times over the years; it is long past time we returned the favor. Besides, this will not be the first vigil I have spent at someone’s bedside. He will want to see you when he wakes . . . rested and clean and taken care of.” Hugging the girl, the tiny woman used her arms around the woman’s waist to guide her forcibly towards where her oldest son, Sam, stood in the door. “Go . . . take some time for yourself and with your daughters . . . with Rey. And I don’t want to see you back here until tomorrow afternoon. You need to take care of yourself, or you’ll be of no use to him once he wakes up and he’s relying on your strength.”

Sam took custody of his friend silently, prompting Catherine to offer one last protest, “Marishka . . .”

“Sammy will see you home, Catherine. I promise; I’ll take good care of him in your absence.”

Seeing the immovable determination in the Russian’s eyes, the notoriously stubborn detective nodded in agreement. “All right . . . please, call me if anything changes.”

“I will. I promise. Vincent is strong and stubborn; he’s going to come back to us, okay? He loves you,” Marina soothed gently, squeezing her shoulder lightly before turning to her son. “If you would stay with her and the girls tonight? I think we’d all feel much better knowing they’re not alone in the city.”

“You got it, Ma. I have my cell . . . call me when you need me.”

“Thank you, Sammichka. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lugging the basin to the bathroom sink, Marina filled it with cool water and grabbed some washcloths. There was a distinct waddle to her step as she returned to the bedside and busied herself with cooling Vincent’s burning body. Her loyal protector curled up on the floor behind her, jaw laid on his paws as he watched her fuss at the unconscious man in the bed. 

“We’re here with you sweetheart . . . you just rest. We’ll take care of Catherine for you . . . and when you wake up, we’re going to talk about this inconvenience thing. Because you are not and never could be an inconvenience to me, to Misha . . . to any of us. You’re family, Vincent Ryan Keller, and we love you very much.”

***********************

_It was hard to wake up. His eyelids felt like lead and there was a heaviness to his limbs unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It was exhausting._

_Blinking as he forced himself to take stock of his surroundings, he frowned as he considered the sharp coppery scent of blood. He forced his eyes open and stared down with wavering eyes at his hands . . . and the rich burgundy blood that covered his naked frame. His eyes flew wide, adrenaline pushing him back to awareness in a heartbeat. “Oh my God . . . what . . . what have I done?_

_Just then, JT Forbes - his longtime friend and compatriot - rushed into his line of vision. “Shit . . . Vincent, man, come on. We gotta go before the zoo opens . . . before someone sees what you’ve done. Let’s go, come on.”_

_Vincent stared at the man, shocked and horrified to realize that it had been entirely too long since he’d seen his old friend. “JT? What are you doing here?”_

_“Cleaning up after you, as usual. Come on, Vincent. I know you can’t control them, but we gotta go before we get screwed. Let’s go.”_

_“Control them . . .” he inquired, words trailing off as the ripped apart corpse of a deer finally resolved itself from the brown blur before him. “Oh God . . . this isn’t happening,” he breathed, all but diving towards the basin of water to clean off the blood. He splashed and scrubbed at the blood, ignoring the other man’s tugging on him. “What’s going on? I don’t . . .”_

_“Walk now, talk later. Come on, man. The zoo’s opening soon . . . we **have** to go.” Shoving a bundle of fabric at him, he ordered, “Get dressed. Let’s get out of here without adding an indecency charge to our laundry list of crimes.”_

****************************

Vincent’s eyes furrowed, his head tossing on the pillow prompting a soft shushing sound from Marina as she took his hand and squeezed lightly. “You’re okay, honey. You’re all right. Just rest . . . and come home to us.”

Will’s voice was soft and careful behind her as he asked, “How’s the patient?”

“Restless . . . his fever’s climbing,” Marina replied, sighing as her partner’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders, kneading the tense muscles there firmly. Apache whined from his place at her feet, giant head coming up to rest on her knee as he pinned her in place with shining golden eyes.

Will reached to scratch the animal behind the ears, murmuring, “taking good care of our girl, yeah?”

The wolf gave the Colonel a wolfish grin, tongue lolling as Will hit the sweet spot, before dropping to lay across Marina's feet again. Chuckling, Will turned his attention back to his partner, insisting, “I understand your need to stay with him, _samaya malen’kaya_ . . . you wouldn’t be my Marishka if you didn’t. But I need you to take care of yourself too, for Trystan’s sake. Okay?”

The Russian smiled, looking up into his face as he bent to starfish his fingers over the swell of her stomach. Linking her own fingers with his, she promised, “We’re just fine, Mishka. And Apache is taking very good care of me. But I gave Catherine my word. I won’t leave Vincent.”

Bending, he pressed a gentle kiss to the bow of her mouth, earning a small smile. “Just be smart. I’ll be back to bring you something to eat a little later.”

“You take such good care of me,” she teased, nose wrinkling as she grinned.  
“I try . . . but damn if you don’t make it difficult sometimes,” he agreed with a wink. “Get some rest while you can, okay? Don’t strain yourself, or Vincent will have both of our heads on the chopping block when he wakes up.”

********************************

_Vincent stared at JT in horror, as the biochemist led him into an abandoned section of the subway tunnels under the city. “What are we doing here?”_

_“Well, Muirfield crashed our last safehouse, so this is the best I can do until I find another place for us to hide out in.”_

_“What are you talking about? What happened to the apartment? To the house on base? To the Stark Tower apartment?” Vincent asked, voice raising as his frustration swelled._

_“House on base? Apartment? Vincent . . . I hate to be the one to have to remind you of this, buddy, but you’re dead. There hasn’t been an apartment since the one you shared with Alex before you enlisted. Last place was an abandoned warehouse and the one before that was a condemned factory building no one had gotten around to tearing down yet.” Cocking an eyebrow at him, he continued, “And there is no base in the world that wouldn’t turn you in as fast as you could say ‘Kalamazoo’. And there is no way we can afford an apartment in **any** of the Towers on our fugitive’s budget, let alone an apartment owned by Tony fucking Stark. Captain America project you may be, but you are NOT Captain America.”_

_“S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t . . . they wouldn’t. And Tony is a family friend; we all got apartments inside, rent free.”_

_“Okay dude . . . clearly you’re having a hard time coming out of the fugue state, so I’m going to say this really slowly so you get it. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a myth made up by the computer hacktivists of Rising Tide to explain what happened last year. And Tony Stark? He has ONE friend, and that friend is Lt. Colonel Rhodes.”_

_“What happened last year?” Vincent demanded, hands vice tight around his shoulders as he grabbed JT and loomed over him._

_“The Battle of New York, man, come on. You nearly gave me a heartattack, risking exposure just to help people.”_

_“What about Catherine? Where’s Catherine? Give me your phone . . . I gotta call her. She’s probably worried sick about me.”_

_There was a dumfounded look on his friend’s face as he stared, before asking seriously, “Who the hell is Catherine?!”_

_Horrified, Vincent bolted as soon as he realized that JT had no idea what he was talking about. Shouting at the sky, he protested, “I realize that this is karma for what I said, but damn it, I didn’t **actually** mean it! I want my old life back!” There was a momentary pause, before he groaned, “Even karma hates me. Assholes.”_

_If there was one aspect of his Blutbad senses that was to his advantage it was his uncanny ability to be able to find his mate, no matter where she was. Standing on a street corner, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before narrowing in on the distinct scent of his mate. A stream of images flashed before his eyes, before he was off, conscious not to draw any attention to himself. He found her sitting in the park with another man who Vincent recognized as Evan Marks, the coroner from Catherine’s precinct . . . who last Vincent checked was dead._

_He bit down on his lower lip, letting his senses caress over her, taking stock of her. There was a diamond on her finger and a brilliant smile on her face as they picnicked together. She looked happy . . . which was all he’d ever wanted for her. He hadn’t anticipated how much it would hurt to see her with someone else though . . . someone who wasn’t him._

_It felt like a knife to the heart . . . open heart surgery while he was still awake. But there was a sense of vindication there as well. Her life **was** better without him. And it was with this knowledge that he turned and walked away. _

_He had someone else to find. He hadn’t been lying to JT; S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn’t turn him in. He just needed to find Will and Marina, and prove his worth to them once again. Considering how quickly Marina adopted him and Will put him to work in Medical the last time, he wasn’t anticipating any problems._

******************************

Grant and Skye peeked into the hospital room, Grant carrying a bag of Will's homemade Chinese food in his hands and worry shining in both of their eyes. “Marishka?” he inquired tentatively, before Skye picked up, “ _Mati_ , you okay?”

Apache watched the two come in, eyes eerily human as they approached the Family Matriarch. As for Marina herself, she was seated on the edge of the bed, one hand holding Vincent's while the fingers of the other drew senseless designs along the skin. She was singing softly to him, though Grant couldn't pick out any of the lyrics. She nodded, continuing with both actions as she turned to look at the two with sad eyes. 

Skye looked up at her companion for a moment, squeezing his hand, before dashing to the edge of the bed. “How is he?”

“Stable, though not any better,” the Russian replied, one arm extending to accept Skye’s warm hug. “How are you, Little Bit?”

“Worried about him . . . and Cat. Sam asked for some reinforcements; she's not doing so well.”

Grant nodded, coming around to the other side of the bed to look down at his friend. “Come on, man. Wake up . . . Kitty-Cat needs you Vincent.”

Marina sighed, a small smile on his face as she shook her head. “He has to be ready to wake up, loves. Be patient . . . it'll happen in its own time.”

There was a heavy sigh from the specialist, before he moved to the small table. “Here . . . the Colonel sent us with food. He thought you wouldn't be hungry, but he made you Chinese hoping you’d try anyway.”

She giggled, rolling her eyes. “He takes such good care of me. No one would ever believe what a softie he is, if they hadn't seen it for themselves.”

“Dacia, Inari and the girls would set anyone straight who dared to suggest otherwise,” the hacker agreed with a small laugh. She watched with fond eyes as Grant dished up a plate for Marina and brought it to her, dropping to his knees next to her and resting his head on her knee. The love and adoration Grant had for her mother always made her smile . . . it was that love which had brought him out of the cold and into loving arms. “Grant will probably bring Dacia back at some point. And I imagine Sam will be here after we relieve him.”

One of Marina's hands left Vincent's, those graceful, deadly fingers smoothing through Grant’s hair softly, earning a quiet purr from him. “Vincent needs to know our people want him here . . . he needs to know we're waiting for him. But let Catherine rest; she needs it.”

“Will do, _Mati_.” Skye agreed, taking a seat in the abandoned chair and leaning back. Grant wouldn't leave until the plate was empty. Might as well be comfortable. 

***************************

_Vincent avoided the front gate completely. Considering he wasn't SHIELD in this reality, he wasn't going to be in their entrance files as “Vincent Zalanski” . . . the alias Catherine and Jason had sent up for him years ago. The one he’d used to go to Catherine’s father’s wedding so long ago._

_He prowled along the edges of the fence, using his extra senses and what he knew about Jason to find the blind spot in the fence. Crouching, he watched for a moment to make sure there were no witnesses before leaping up and over it. The landing, though . . ._

_Vincent bit down hard on the scream as pain lanced through his chest. He could feel the fierce frown contorting his face, as he took in the pristine shirt he wore. Something was tingling in the back of his mind . . . something he should remember. It slithered through his fingers, always dancing just out of reach._

_After a moment, the pain faded and he straightened. The sensation of having forgotten something disappeared and he once again turned his focus to finding Will and Marina._

_Base hadn't changed much, and Vincent moved at an easy lope through the streets to the base house. When he arrived, he froze. The house had always smelled of home; Marina's cooking, Will's cologne . . . gentleness, joy, happiness and, above all, love. Will and Marina's love for one another had saturated these walls . . . made it the safehaven it had become for so many damaged and broken people._

_Now, his nose twitched from the scents of agony, pain and sadness that screamed from the building. The love he had always associated it with was muted, sad and broken. Sinking to his knees on the sidewalk, he stared up at the building in horror. “Oh God . . . what happened here?”_

_It took a little bit before he heard the rustling of fabric coming from above his head. His eyes flared gold as he looked up, seeking the cause of the sound. A tall, shadowed form stood in an upper window, features hidden as he watched Vincent kneel on the sidewalk. Discovering himself seen, the curtain fell back into place and the figure was gone again._

_Thus fortified by evidence of life within the home, Vincent pushed himself up and moved to the door. Purpose and determination motivated his step as he all but blurred to the door, hand up to knock before he could over think his decision and talk himself out of it._

_The wood sounded hollow and lifeless under his knuckles. The fanciful side of him - a side he had thought long gone - imagined it a death knoll . . . a dirge leading the dead on to the afterlife. Shaking his head, he forced the thought away. His nose was playing tricks on him. No matter what, Will and Marina's home could never be a death trap._

_It took a while, and Vincent could hear the sounds of movement behind the door, but at last the door opened. Owen Elliot stood half hidden by the cracked open door, one cornflower blue eye watching Vincent with the kind of killer calm the Cleaner was renowned for. His tone was gruff as he growled, “Who the hell are you?”_

_Vincent blinked, surprised by the uncharacteristic unfriendliness. “I'm . . . my name is Vincent Keller. I'm here to see the Colonel.”_

_Pain flashed fast and lethal across those brutal features, causing Vincent's heart to sink into his gut. That vulnerable spot disappeared quickly and the Cleaner started to close the door, grunting, “Go away . . . the man you're looking for isn't here.”_

_Vincent lunged forward, desperate. “Please! Let me speak to Marina, if he isn't here. Please . . . I need help, and he said I could always come to him if I needed it.” Seeing Owen wavering, he clasped his hands and begged, “Please.”_

_A familiar, beloved voice spoke from behind him. “Let him in, Lucky. Misha would have never turned one of his soldiers away . . . not if they were in need. I will do no less.”_

_“Boss-Lady, you're supposed to be resting,” Owen protested, even as he pushed the door open further so as to obey._

_Vincent stared in shock as Grant Ward carried a thin and frail Marina Petrovka down the stairwell. She had a blanket wrapped around her, but even Vincent could tell that her legs were useless to her._

_Displaying the intuition he'd always known from her, the Russian gave him a weak smile and explained, “I was . . . wounded . . . during the Battle of New York. A kill shot kills, but a critical injury occupies manpower. Loki may be a terrible individual, but in this, he was smart.”_

_The medic shook his head, jarred by the sight of her looking so different than he remembered. “I'm sorry. I was a doctor at NYGH, before I enlisted . . . a morbid, occupational curiosity, I guess.”_

_“No problem,” she promised, as Grant settled her carefully into a wheelchair at the bottom of the stairwell. “Thank you, _Prizrak_.” _

_Giving her a true smile, Grant stepped back behind her and folded his arms over his chest, as always Marina's loyal soldier. The Russian adjusted herself in the chair, then she turned it to face him and folded her hands in her lap . . . which brought Vincent to the next horrifying realization._

_Marina was NOT pregnant._

_He staggered, thrown completely by that fact. He remained on his feet only because Owen caught and steadied him. She cocked her head at him, concern clear in her face. “Are you alright, Dr Keller?”_

_“Yes . . . I'm sorry . . . I just . . . I feel like I'm in a very bad dream.”_

_She gave him a genuine grin as she chuckled, “I can relate sometimes. Now, I heard you say you were looking for the Colonel, my Mishka?”_

_“Yes . . . I'm in some trouble and I'm looking for work. I'll do anything he has available, I just need some help.”_

_“I will be happy to help you. But Dr. Keller . . . my Misha . . . he passed away, going on three years ago. I'm sorry you had to find out this way.”_

******************************

It had been several hours and Marina could see the room getting darker as the sun began to make its descent to the horizon. The Chinese had been eaten dutifully, with the rest stashed in Miranda’s small cooler at the nurse's station. Skye and Grant had gone to check on Vincent's girls, leaving the Russian and Apache alone once again. 

Not that she imagined they would be alone for long. Someone would be coming to check on her soon enough. They always did. 

But for the moment, she was content to sit and sing to the man in the bed. Soothing the heat from his skin and offering what little comfort she could. Somehow, she just knew that Vincent needed a tether, a reminder of the world waiting for him. Marina Ivanovna Petrovka was more than willing to be that tether, until Catherine could take it up once more. 

A voice from behind her was fond as it teased, “How many different lullabies do you know, Ma?”

The Russian twisted to smile at her eldest son, not at all surprised to see Dacia and Rene at his side. “At least one for each of you, and a bunch more from when your uncles were babies.”

Dacia scrambled into the room, eyes wide and scared. “How is he? Has he woken up yet?” she asked, her hand reaching to clasp Vincent's free one. 

“No honey . . . I'm sorry,” Marina replied with a small, sad smile. “He'll wake when he's ready.”

“You don't know that!” she protested with a whimper. 

“ _Khrabryy_ , I've known your father for a long time. If there is one defining characteristic about Vincent that outweighs all the others, it's this; he loves your mother and he will fight like hell to come home to her.”

“You promise?” she begged, her usual strength faltering under her fear for her family. 

Marina nodded solemnly, knowing better than to do anything of the sort but still wanting to offer her some comfort. Sam's hands came up to knead his mother's shoulders, his sunny blond head coming into view as he pressed a warm kiss to her cheek. “How you feelin’, Ma?”

“I'm alright. Tired . . . worried . . . the usual.” Grinning up at her eldest, she joked, “It is a wonder I am not old and gray by now.”

“You could never be gray, Mama,” Rene protested faithfully, his hands in his pockets as he watched his girlfriend talk to her father in a whisper only a Wesen could hear. 

“Flatterer,” she laughed fondly. “Taking lessons from your father, I see.”

He blushed sheepishly, watching as Marina’s eyes fluttered, swept away by the calm strength in Sam's gentle hands. “Get some rest Mama. We can take the watch for a little bit for you.”

************************

_Vincent followed silently as the Russian pushed the chair along to the room that had once been Will's study. As he did, he examined each of the pictures on the wall next to him. His Marina had had pictures everywhere . . . anywhere she could find blank space. Her Misfits tended to be in most of them, with more than honorable mention given to her children and granddaughter, Sadie._

_Here, however, there were few pictures of anyone outside of her twin daughters Katenka and Valya. Grant, Owen, the Grimm brothers were scattered in more than a few but not as many as he remembered. Freezing in the entryway to the living room, he stared up at the beautiful artist's rendition of Will and Marina with their daughters hanging over the fireplace. “It's beautiful.”_

_Marina had tears on her eyes as she looked up at it. “Thank you. I needed him in something with our daughters . . . he loved them so very much.”_

_“Do you mind? If I ask how he passed? I always kinda thought of him as superhuman . . . he'd outlive us all.”_

_“I thought so once too,” she replied softly, staring up at the picture sadly. “Betrayal, Dr Keller . . . betrayal is what took my Misha from me.”_

_“Who in their right mind would betray the Colonel?” Vincent asked somewhat stunned by the revelation._

_“We don't know. He was at S.H.I.E.L.D., coming back from a meeting when he was stabbed in the back. By the time Jason and Owen got to him, he'd already lost a lot of blood. They spent too much time arguing with him about going to Medical. He finally passed out and by the time he got treatment, it was too late . . . there was nothing they could do.” Looking up she continued, “He should have been safe there. We trusted too much in that, and someone took advantage of that trust.”_

_Vincent had a flashback to that hallway, remembering Will's insistence about being treated at home . . . the blood that stained his hands as he sealed off the wound and stopped the bleeding. “Why didn't he go to Medical?”_

_“No doctors there he trusted to have his back while he was vulnerable.” Here she gave him a small, sad smile. “Miranda’s great, but she's not a doctor.”_

_Biting down on his lower lip, he let his eyes roam the room before catching on a picture of Sam Grimm, ice blue eyes bright even in the picture. He'd forgotten that Sam had been part of the family through Marta initially; Vincent's absence had had no effect on his appearance._

_He schooled his features into excitement, striding to the picture with a happy grin. “Holy shit!? You know Sam?! I haven't seen him since the Sandbox! Where is he? Back in Toronto?”_

_The agony that broke across Marina's face at Sam's name prompted Grant to crouch at her side, arms coming up and around her tightly. Owen's eyes were blue fire as he snarled, “You are oh for two, dude. Shut the fuck up before I do something, I will not regret.”_

_Vincent staggered, dropping to the ground and burying his face in his arms. “No . . . not Sam.” Real tears shone in his eyes as he asked, “How? What happened?”_

_“We were deployed to Georgia . . . there was a biological outbreak. Sam became infected,” she explained in a whisper, fingers clutching Grant’s sleeve tightly. “There was no cure . . . his Aunt Marta tried but . . .” Here she sniffled and straightened, visibly bracing herself. “He begged me not to let him become one of those things . . . begged me not to let him hurt anyone. I waited as long as I could before I put a bullet through his brain. He's buried next to Misha in our little plot outside the city.”_

_“What about his sister?” Vincent asked suddenly, eyes wide as they moved back to the broken Russian where she was clinging to Grant like a lifeline._

_Owen spoke up, answering instead,“Natalie Braddock is in Paris, working as a fashion editor for a magazine. She never got over the loss of her brother.”_

_“No, not the Braddock sister. His **other** sister, Skye?” He watched Grant for any visual recognition of the name._

_Grant showed no reaction to the name, fully focused on calming Marina. There was no connection to Skye at all. Owen continued suspiciously, eyes narrowed on Vincent as he spoke, “Sam only had two sisters, and Amy was killed when he was 9 years old.”_

_Frowning at that revelation Vincent shook his head and explained “I could have sworn he had an adopted sister he used to speak of.”_

_“None that we know of.”_

_Marina spoke up then, eyes closed as she confessed, “We would have adopted that boy in a heartbeat, Misha and I. We loved him very much.”_

_“None of this is right,” The medic growled irritably, his eyes flashing golden unbidden over the entire situation. “You **did** adopt him, Will **did** survive that injury and you damn well adopted a little street rat hacker who hacked her way into the Pentagon, after Jason dragged her home.”_

_Marina flinched hard, whimpering, “I would give anything for that to be true, Dr Keller. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. Owen, give him Maria's information . . . she'll put you to work. We always need good doctors in Medical.”_

_Vincent mentally kicked himself at the sudden outburst and Marina’s reaction, his head dipped before he rumbled “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have made you relive your losses.”_

_Grant hissed, “She asked you to leave so get out.”_

_A low rumbling growl slipped free of his chest at Grant’s tone, even as he rose and stalked towards the door brushing past Owen in the process. His mind reeled over everything he’d just been told, yet at the same time it gave him a purpose. He needed to find and protect those people closest to him who were still in the wind, without the Colonel’s and Marina’s protection._

_Time moved strangely, as one moment he was standing on Marina's porch and the next in front of Damien’s skeevy club. Without Dacia scenting Vincent, they never would have stumbled across the family. Which means Will would have never found reason to burn this place to the ground, with all of its nightmares still inside._

_Closing his eyes, he searched through the crowded space for the rotted onion smell he had always associated with the pimp. He prowled through the club, senses on alert and his nerves firing, before he suddenly had Damien Sullivan under his hands and pressed back against the wall, choking. “Where is she?”_

_The proprietor gave him a weak smile, clearly trying to flirt as he cooed, “Someone in particular you're looking for, handsome? I cater to a lot of different tastes. Pick your flavor.”_

_Vincent roared in his face, eyes burning gold in the darkened club. “Dacia Leikos! Where is she?! You tell me where she is right now!”_

_Damien suddenly stank of fear, eyes going wide as he stared up at him. “What do you want that little bitch for? More trouble than she's worth, man, honestly . . .”_

_Whatever he would have said next was cut off by Vincent's hands tightening around his throat as he growled. “Where is she, scumbucket?”_

_Damien beat on Vincent's arms, trying to loosen the grip, before choking out, “Dead . . . she's dead . . . signed her own death warrant when she ran . . . I couldn't let her live, man . . . I had to make an example of her.”_

_Pain pierced through Vincent unlike anything he had ever known, though his hands never faltered. His bright, beautiful, ferocious Dacia . . . dead? Growling, he demanded, “And Inari? What happened to Inari?”_

_“The little grifter? What use would I have for her? She joined Dacia in the afterlife not long after she watched me kill her friend.”_

_Vincent didn't even think. His hands clenched, snapping Damien's neck and nearly ripping his head clear of his body. Dropping the useless flesh, Vincent whirled and roared into the room. Damien's goons stared at the enraged Blutbad, shocked, while the pimp’s victims fled in tears._

_Vincent wasn't sure how long it was before he stood in front of the blazing building, watching it burn with a grisly satisfaction burning in his heart. The taste of blood was bitter and hot in his mouth, the pain in his chest expanding throughout his body and getting worse._

_Turning his back on the building as sirens began to wail, Vincent pulled up his hood around his face and strode away. There were still others he needed to find. He just needed internet and a decent computer; an internet cafe would help with that . . . he hoped._

_The news wasn't good. He wasn't sure why he expected it to be any different._

_Reynard Clark - froze to death while sleeping on the streets in a small town in the Catskills. Body found December 27, 2012._

_Skye aka Mary Sue Poots - serving a life sentence in Leavenworth for hacking the Pentagon._

_Enjolras Rene Conrad - detained via court order in a group home, geared towards youth with criminal tendencies. He wouldn't be allowed out until 21, and by then, any future he could have would already be squandered by his criminal record._

_Sophia Pelletier - dead in the same incident as Sam._

_Daryl Dixon - still in Georgia, grieving alongside a rage-filled Carol Pelletier._

_Angus Maitland . . . Marina's beloved Gus - dead . . . apparent suicide._

_The list went on, bringing the pain in his chest to excruciating levels. Stumbling from the cafe, he slumped against a light pole, clutching his chest and heaving in gasps of air through his tears. “This isn't real . . . it can't be real . . . wake up, Vince . . . come on, man, you gotta wake up.”_

**********************

Marina looked up from her book to hear Vincent moaning, his head tossing on the pillow and his hands clutching around the covers as his feet kicked uselessly at blankets. Setting her book to the side, she stood and leaned over the restless figure in the bed. “Easy Vincent, you're all right. You're safe here.” 

Smoothing her fingers through his hair, she whispered, “Come home, Vincent. Catherine needs you . . . Dacia . . . Inari . . . Rey . . . they need you home. Come back, sweetheart . . . come back to Cat.”

*********************  
_**”Come home, Vincent. Catherine needs you . . .”**_

_Those words shook the air around Vincent, the voice beloved and familiar. Shaking himself free of his tears, he lifted his head and nodded. Catherine would fix this . . . he just needed to remind her who he was . . . who they were to each other and everything would go back to the way it was._

_As if the voice had called her, Catherine's voice rang against his eardrums, sounding angry and tearful. “I can't just ‘let it go’, Evan! I need answers . . . to why my mother was murdered! To who saved me that night!”_

_“Nothing saved you, Catherine! You imagined it . . . you had a traumatic break and dreamed it!” her husband barked back, sounding fed up and furious. “Stop living in a damned fairytale!”_

_Vincent blurred without even thinking about it, suddenly appearing between the couple. He took up a protective stance, eyes blazing gold as he let out an inhuman roar at Evan. The Brit scrambled back, clearly surprised. As for Catherine, she stared for only a moment before breaking into a brilliant smile. “You're real . . . it was you, that night, wasn’t it?”_

_He whimpered at her, ducking his head as he watched her. After a moment, when the instincts had settled, he answered, “Yes, it was me.”_

_“What's your name?”_

_“Vincent,” he replied, turning towards her more fully._

_She gave him a lopsided grin, teasing lightly, “Where have you been all my life, Vincent?”_

_He purred at her, taking a step closer before a gunshot filled the air and he screamed. The steady pain was now a lightning rod through his chest, agonizing and awful. Clutching at his chest, he looked down and watched as the blood stretched across his shirt.  
The image overlapped with another, one he vaguely remembered from before this mess. He whined, vision wavering as Catherine reached out to grab his elbows. Her eyes were clear and she looked calm as she spoke, “It's time to go home, Vincent . . .”_

_“Home?” he whimpered, starting to sag to the concrete below them._

_“Yes, where your family is waiting for you. Just let go . . . and come home. Your Catherine needs you.” Letting him lay back, she stroked her fingers over his eyes as she ordered, “Just close your eyes, Vincent . . . and go home to them. They're waiting for you to wake up.”_

_Feeling something pulling on him, he reached out and gripped her wrist, fighting to stay awake for just a little longer. “Cat . . . I didn't mean it. . . your life isn't better without me.”_

_She smiled fondly, promising, “Of course it isn't. Our lives are so much **better** because you were with us!”_

He blinked, head shaking at the distortion on the voice. “Cat?”

“No love . . . come home baby,” the voice replied, his surroundings morphing from the roadside to a sterile white room. A dark haired woman leaning over him and brushing a cool cloth along his forehead. “There's those eyes. Welcome back.”

He whimpered, “‘Rina?”

“Hi Vincent. You're all right. It's okay. . . you're awake now. Everything's gonna be fine,” she soothed, love and gentleness shining in her eyes. 

Eyes flickering over her, they snared on her belly. Reaching out with trembling fingers, he traced a lazy figure eight over the only evidence he needed that he was awake at last. “You're pregnant,” he sobbed in relief. 

“Of course I am. I've only been pregnant for seven months. You, Ethan and Marta will not cease to fuss at me,” she snarked fondly, a sparkle in her eyes and a grin on her face. 

“Thank God.”

Alarmed by the fervent relief in the statement, Marina reached to cup his cheek. “Honey, what's wrong?”

“Nothing . . . just a terrible, terrible, terrible dream.” Yawning, he snuggled into his pillows. “Cat? Dacia and Inari? Rey?”

“They're alright. Sam, Grant and Skye are with them. I'll have my Misha call Sam and have them bring them all to see you first thing once he gets here.”

“Will . . . he's alive?! And Sam too?”

“Of course they're alive! For heaven's sake, Misha is going to outlive us all,” she fussed, busying herself with wringing out the cloth. “Your fever must be rising again.”

His hands tightened hard around her wrists, keeping her close and his eyes desperate as he looked up at her. “Marina . . . I didn't mean it. Tell her for me?”

“No,” was the succinct refusal. “You will tell her . . . as soon as you wake up. Get some rest . . . morning is still hours away.”

“Love you, ‘Rina,” he slurred, feeling exhaustion start to pull him under once more. 

“And I love you, Vincent. Rest now . . . everyone will be here in the morning.”

*********************

The next morning Vincent woke to the familiar feeling of someone in the bed next to him. Head turning slightly, he smiled to see his mate dozing beside him. His fingers shook as he lifted one hand to play with a wayward strand of her hair. “Catherine . . .” he breathed, lifting the strand to breath in the scent of her apples and reassure himself she was really there. 

Marina's voice was a whisper as she murmured, “How do you feel, _Roslyy_?”

He didn't even flinch, eyes fixed on his Cat’s face. “Thankful to be home.”

A soft laugh turned Vincent's eyes away from his mate and towards where Marina sat curled up on the sofa. He rolled his eyes at the sight of the giant wolf with dark brown fur stretched out beside her, his head on her knee while she stroked along his ears. Rolling his eyes, he teased fondly, “Why is your attack dog in my hospital?” 

His question reverberated through the air unanswered, before Dacia’s voice rang through the small room with the delighted cry of his name. “ _Vati_! You're awake!”

The sight of Inari and Dacia coming forward prompted a swell of joy in his throat. Pushing himself up, he moved to climb out of bed and hold them close. Both girls reacted with concern, putting on speed to push him back to the bed. “Papa, no! You have to stay still! Aunt Marta said so!” 

Vincent ignored the burning sensation in his chest, eyes wide as he reached up to cup Inari’s face in his palm. He stared at them, in awe of the fact they were at his bedside. “You’re alive . . .”

The two girls exchanged a worried look, before Dacia bent over and pressed a warm kiss to her father’s cheek. “Of course we are, _Vati_ ,” she replied with a concerned frown. 

The reassurance from Dacia earned a concerned question from Inari herself as she asked, “Are you okay, Papa?”

Wrapping his arms around them both, he held them as tightly as he could manage for as long as he could. “I’m fine, Inari. I’m so glad to see you both.”

A bright voice snarked from the doorframe then, causing Vincent’s head to snap up to stare as more members of the family came into the room. “Well well well, look who’s a patient in his own hospital,” Sam taunted, bright blue eyes sparkling as he carried Sadie in, with Skye at his right where she always seemed to be. “How you feeling man?”

Relief unlike anything Vincent had ever felt swelled in his chest. Rey and Blaine stood on the other side of the bed from the girls, his son clearly allowing his sisters to get their own worried affections out of the way. Grant stood against the wall behind Marina - that hadn’t changed - though Vincent smiled to see his eyes follow Skye around the room as she and Sam poked at each other. His family was here with him; everyone he thought was lost to him accounted for . . . except one. 

It wasn’t until William Michael Grimm came into the room last of all that the relief in Vincent burst free. He could feel tears start to roll down his cheeks as the Colonel came to stand at the foot of his bed for a moment, one hand reaching out to fond over his ankle and squeeze before stepping back once again. Vincent watched as the man smiled in amusement at his beaming partner before moving to her side. As Will seated himself on the armrest of the couch and bent to press a warm kiss to her hair while his fingers drew figure eights over the swell of her belly, Vincent felt as though he could breathe once more. It was in the hands of these two people, that Vincent’s family was safest. 

Inari’s voice, timid and concerned, asked again, “Papa . . . are you **sure** you’re okay? You look . . . scared.”

Turning a warm brown gaze onto his daughter, he reveled in the fact that Catherine had snuggled closer to him, her lips pressing warm against the base of his jaw. Reaching out to take his daughter’s hand, he squeezed warmly as he promised, “Not scared, baby . . . happy. Very, very happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment? Please?! XD


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